Margaret Edwards

Author

It was the lawn that brought her the young man named Mark.
She said to him on the first day, "I've done the lawn for years myself, and I know how to operate this—" She was pointing to a tractor mower. "—as long as nothing goes wrong with it. B [...]

Ellen Medlar sits in her kitchen reading her mail. She slits open an envelope addressed in her mother's hand. Inside are newspaper clippings, carefully cut, some with handwritten notes beside the print. Since Mr. Medlar's illness, Mrs. Medlar rarel [...]

The woman, who likes to be called Susan, not Sue, looks down at her hands in her lap; and when she looks up, still listening, the man once again catches her eye. He has dark, curly hair and a mustache. His look is steady, absorbed, savoring, unabas [...]

ELEANOR Ostenbach and I shared an apartment in New York City years ago. We were both studying painting, attending classes in beginning design and drawing at the New School on West 12th Street. We lived on York Avenue near 65th in a two—bedroom fl [...]

IN a time in which civilization was not as advanced as it is now, three brothers drew up a plan for a walled city. They named it the City of Skadar. It would have high, impregnable walls and would be massive, everlasting, and worth any cost. The thr [...]

One night years ago, when my husband and I lived the implausibly leisured lives of graduate students, we were sitting up very late watching Marilyn Monroe on television. It was one of her better movies. And we were debating if she were or were not [...]

The woman heard the sound again. Rrroo-cooo. Rrroocoo.
She climbed out of the bed, carefully, so as not to wake the man sleeping beside her, and went to the window. On the roof of the bed-and-breakfast hotel were two pigeons. The female pecked and [...]